Wild Composure, Brandon Smith

Wild Composure

Acrylic on Canvas

Brandon Smith PGY-1, Orthodontic Resident Rutgers School of Dental Medicine

The Destination

Fighting Corona

Digital

Sneha Manikandan MD Candidate Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School

From Up Above

Photography

NYC stands tall In the face of adversity NYC stands strong Together we fight fearlessly

Covid brought us down But we stood up high In this town We will unify

7 o’clock, The bells ring On this bedrock We are strong

Mubashir Shabil Billah, MD PGY-5, Chief Urology Resident Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

Heavy is the Armor

Heavy is the armor, worn every day To battle the unknown, the unchartered – Behind the mask remain unphased Through blood, sweat, tears The loneliness, the fears A sea of soldiers, heroes without capes Donning and doffing Grasping for more brave Marching forward endlessly The light waxes and wanes And at the end of the day –

So heavy is the armor. So easily it’s crumpled and tossed away.

Sydney Asselstine, MD Resident Physician, CentraState Family Medicine Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School

The Clinic

The space is windowless lit fluorescent A waiting room crowded with friends, neighbors,

Three generations of estranged family members Looming over a locus of meaning

Phlegmatic rags tied round ruddy chins Eyes bloodshot darting in one direction

Holding a heap of damp clothes and bones in my arms She shudders as her breath leaves her body

My supervisor whisks me away as the ambulance drones nearer Promising “this isn’t something that happens everyday here...”

Jake Mariani MS Candidate, Rehabilitation Counseling Program Rutgers School of Health Professions

Pick Two

2. Two. Pick two. Yes, pick two. You. And you. Only you two.

Only you two can go see. Mommy. I guarantee. You won’t like what you see.

You’ll see mommy on a vent. Spent. FiO2 100%. But SaO2 80%. Status post cardiac event. Maximum machine and chemical support until the end. The full extent.

The full extent of her disease. That ravaged her pulmonaries. Then coronaries. A catheter to help her urinaries. And her final organs to fail: her kidneys.

No visits from family. Precautionarily. To keep everyone else free. Of this disease so beastly.

That is—except for final goodbyes. Before she dies. Each child cries. Many Why-Oh-Why’s.

Why is two the maximum? She has a husband, four daughters and a son! How can we leave out even just one? Not to mention a granddaughter or grandson. So pick two. Two children of my dying patient whose mommy they will never again see. This is a disease we can’t treat, only prevent. Please—I beg—PLEASE! Stay home, wear a mask, distance and get the vaccine. And be wise. Because I am totally done.

Elan Baskir, MD PGY-1, Medicine-Pediatrics Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

Venomous Arrest

Traditional and Digital

Chaden Noureddine MD Class of 2022 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

When I Die

A starved student’s mouth waters as layers of skin are peeled like onions to reveal pork like strands of red muscle

Fat droplets resembling spoiled cottage cheese cling onto the blunt scalpel that cuts on demand

The formaldehyde filled cadaver lab appeases overworked minds while teasing appetites

As a cadaver it must feel anti-climactic to feed the mind that could advance science but most likely will only pass an exam

I would rather be charred to crisp, fed to the air free of the hungry intellects of students

But, how hypocritical of me

A first-year medical student plucking nerves like acoustic strings hoping the sounds resonate for tomorrow

I want my ashes to drown in the crystal clear waters of Bermuda so I can at least discover Atlantis.

Not stuffed in a claustrophobic box, crammed into the earth where bacteria betray my insides, convert them to gas

There lies a bloating body unable to inflate through its casket oozing fluids to stay afloat

Is it better to be defenseless against a sea of maggots in a dark box or the imaginations of dissectors in an industrialized room?

Please, just burn me.

Veer Patel MD Class of 2023 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School

The Evening Hour

When the evening hours come I cannot stand my pain my pain melts my heart because you are away

My mouth shut to strangers I only want to talk to you and in my darkest times you are sunshine

When the evening hours come everything looks different I think that life is ending I want always happiness to give you

My mouth shut to the others old dreams get resurrected and I promise you they will come back memories, thoughts and acts of life

When the evening hours come I am not the same as in the morning sad but sweet images I see as we walk hand in hand together

John Kostis, MD Professor, Department of Medicine Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School

Getting To Know The Person Behind Our Patient

While visiting the ever elegant and graceful 93-year-old Dr. Maria Teresa Moevs, the atmosphere within her property felt warm. Along a winding road sat her residence, an isolated white farm home in a sea of green, surrounded by luscious lawns and trees which seemed to touch the sky and where a red barn rested not too far along the drive way. She had no choice in buying this home, “once my kids saw the brook [nearby], they were in love with the home,” she reminisced, “they loved the water.” Thinking back to my own childhood and the moments where my siblings and I begged our parents to buy our current home since it had a pool, I couldn’t help but feel immensely connected to Dr. Moevs. Like my parents, she immigrated to the US, and made an entire life for herself seemingly without hesitation or doubt in her capabilities to do so. Like many of us, she cherished her family, so much so she was motivated to buy a home because of the way her children romanticized it. However, Maria Teresa was unique for the way she fostered an appreciation for academia everywhere she went, not only for her children, but all those who surrounded her.

Dr. Moevs too had ties to Douglass College, my alma matter, which served as her former teaching grounds, where she was a pioneer woman in her field. There she created the Italian House, a living-learning community for women studying at Rutgers University. She spent so many years of her own life encouraging others to pursue their dreams, my peers and I wondered as we sat along her wrap around porch debriefing from the interview for a bit, what encouraged her to think this way? What about her experience in Italy, while World War II was going on, set her apart from her female counterparts? Why was she an archeologist despite the culture within university at the time which so vehemently discouraged female academic excellence?

“I was exposed to university at a young age, and no one told me not to, so I did,” she accounted so effortlessly. Despite her simple answer, her memoirs never failed to mention her appreciation of being born into a family which valued education. She stressed how education is an opportunity, a privilege, that not all individuals are granted. Yet still there is something very exceptional about Maria Teresa, which I can only think to attribute to her archeologist background. She seems to love and enjoy everything she’s ever owned, perhaps this explains why education is so meaningful to her. As an archeologist, she lived by learning from everything around her in life, and then promptly shared this knowledge with others. It is her nature to not only explore via education but to pass on this acquired knowledge. This became immediately evident as we walked through her home, which quite felt like my own, primarily full of love, but by way of curated art and furniture with pieces that each possessed an identity of their own. Dispersed within the room I noted all items which either emphatically represented her Italian heritage or stood as reminders of her beloved husband and children. Everything within her home, especially as a former archeologist, possesses a sentimental purpose beyond functionality. By elaborating on the history behind the items within her home, Maria Teresa offered us invaluable insight into her life.

As a medical student who had recently finished up my home visit electives to geriatric patients, I couldn’t help but reflect on my encounter with Dr. Maria Teresa Moevs. There’s something to be said about being allotted time to get to know a someone and asking them 0 questions about their medical history. Understanding who someone is without the context of what may make them vulnerable to you allows you to foster a true relationship with them. Often times our geriatric patients come to us unguarded, and we take them as frail, failing to remember there before us stands an entire life full of experiences, emotions, and fulfilled relationships. If I had met Maria Teresa in a hospital setting, there is no way I would’ve gotten to know her as intimately as I did in her home. I may have not seen her as complete as I did when she had a true chance to show me who she was and the life she lived through the items she collected all her life. Maria Teresa stands as a reminder of the life that lives behind every one of our patients. May we never forget the lives within the people who comes to us as patients.

2021 Addendum: I wrote this short essay about two years ago during my internship at the Women’s Health Institute and wanted to add an addendum as I’ve recently learned that Dr Maria Teresa Moevs has passed. I hope this reflection can serve to honor her memory and the waves of inspiration she had on young women motivating them to embody her dedication to a lifetime of learning. May she rest in peace and be remembered fondly for the pioneer she was.

Dr. Maria Teresa Moevs being honored with the first certificate for being a WHI Pioneer Left to Right: Samantha Glotfelty, Dr. Gloria Bachmann, Dr. Maria Teresa Moevs, Vanessa Ortiz

Samantha Glotfelty MD Class of 2022 Rutgers Robert Wood Johnson Medical School

Nursing Home Puppy Therapy

Photography

This photograph is dedicated to my late father, Martin Newman. Regretfully, my father passed away from Covid-19 while he was living at his nursing home in Monroe, NJ, during the height of the pandemic. I was unable to visit my Dad while he was sick and I never gave him one last hug before he passed. I do, however, find comfort in knowing he had many joyous moments when I was able to see him. I always brought Romeo, our Boxer, along for the visit. My father had a love of all animals and especially dogs. My Dad raised 11 Boxers throughout his life and I inherited my love of the breed from him. When Romeo would enter the facility, the entire resident population would light up! Everyone was thrilled to get puppy hugs and kisses and my father was a proud “grandpa” to his Romeo.

Lauren Potash Management Assistant, Office of the Dean Rutgers School of Public Health

Back Cover: Saying Goodbye, Acrylic Tasmima Tazin MD Class of 2023 Rutgers New Jersey Medical School